


there is no such thing

by gh0stly



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon AU, Demon Shane Madej, Gen, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0stly/pseuds/gh0stly
Summary: A simple investigation turns serious as Ryan suspects the black dog of Hawthorn road isn't the only demonic entity to have followed him home.-“Remember Montana, when we had that card game? You were wasted and on a losing streak, and you ran out of cash.”Ryan frowned, caught off guard. Why was he bringing this up now? “Yeah. What about it?”“You said, if I won, you owed me a favor. No questions asked, no strings attached, shut up and do what I say, favor. This is me, calling it in”Ryan’s jaw dropped and he scoffed astonishment, “Are you serious?”“That was the deal.”





	1. Hawthorn Road

**Author's Note:**

> (Just for clarification, this is an AU in which Unsolved is just filmed by the boys, for literally no other reason than keeping track of the crew got really redundant to the story. Also, this is a dialogue-heavy piece and I like to swear wherever possible. Enjoy!)

The haunted church of Hawthorn road was just as creepy in person as one would expect it to be. The stone was slick and dark with the morning’s rain, its one towering spire dwarfing the dead-standing hawthorn tree near the graveyard’s gate. Beyond the black metal fence, rusted and chipped, were the gravestones, jutting from the dusty brown earth in irregular spots of grey and black.

Ryan knew the story of this place. Exorcisms, demonic happenings, now haunted with the remnants of the tortured spirits. He’d expected it to be creepy, for sure- what he hadn't expected was the owner of the place, Father Derek, to be so… sweet. Bumbling, maybe a bit dim, but sweet.

Father Derek had inherited the church from his father when he passed away in the early eighties, he'd told them. His father was one of the four exorcists involved in the town’s story. They stood together in the aisle between the pews as they conduct their interview and learned more about the place and its history. To Ryan’s relief,  Father Derek didn't  _ actually _ hold Mass here now. 

“I tried at first, when my old man passed away,” Father Derek was saying, “I wanted to try and at least make something of the place. Do it up a bit. But the more repairs we made, the more active things became. Strange things were going on ‘til we couldn’t ignore them anymore. Eventually I thought that keeping the place running wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Ryan asked.

The priest gestured behind him, to the altar in the back of the room on the elevated section of the floor. There was a stained glass window on the wall behind it (the only window in the room, Ryan noted) depicting the sweet face of the virgin Mary, dulled with dust and time.

“Things like the altar candles being knocked over during Mass, people hearing whispers. Shadows that moved where they shouldn't...”

“But that’s not the craziest thing that happened, was it?” Ryan prodded, glancing at Shane who held the camera in his hands, as if to ask if he was definitely getting all this. Shane gave him a nod.

“Oh no, there's been much weirder things going on.” The priest continued, “We- my father and the other priests, that is- had a special room built to carry out the rite of exorcism. People came from all over, the more the word spread around. People who claimed to be plagued by spirits or whose children were acting strange...”

Shane chimed in for the first time, “Random question, I’m sorry, but what’s that thing around your neck?” he pointed to the necklace the priest wore; it looked like a small vial of water, attached to a delicate chain that reach down to the priest’s chest.

“Oh, this?” Father Derek lifted the small vial up by the chain and smiled proudly. “This is a little mix of salt and holy water! Made it myself. I have got  _ such  _ a fear of demons- I saw so many possessions when I worked with my father as a child. I felt like I had to make something to protect myself. I’ve been wearing this non-stop for years now. It wards off the demons.”

Shane frowned, “Does it though? I mean, I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure holy water has to, like, touch a demon for it to hurt them. Far as I know it won’t ward them off in a little bottle.” 

Ryan gave him a weird look, wondering where the sudden curiosity was coming from. The priest looked down at the little bottle, “Uhm…”

“Maybe if you, like, whack them with it or something?” Shane continued, oblivious to Ryan’s wary look, “Or splashed it on them? But it won’t keep a demon from possessing you. Plus if they possessed you they’d just take the necklace off and throw it away, couldn’t they?”

“I mean…” Father Derek turned the pendant over in his fingers, “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“You might be right,” Father Derek paused, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Damn it, you  _ are _ right, aren’t you?Here I am thinking I’m so clever. This whole time I could’ve been possessed, or worse. I’m a silly old man.”

“Well, I mean, it might!” Shane said quickly, “It probably will! What do I know? I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not, son.”

“Yes I am. Just ask Ryan.”

“He  _ is _ an idiot,” said Ryan.

Father Derek waved his hand in dismissal, “No no, you’re right. Why’d I think a little bottle was all it took to protect me from evil? If I truly had faith in Our Lord Jesus, I would know I needed no pendants to protect me. Silly old man, silly.”

Father Derek turned back to walk to the altar and Shane looked terribly guilty. Ryan elbowed him.

“Nice one, asshole. You broke the priest.”

Soon after the interview was all wrapped up, and the sun outside began to set, it was time to enter the exorcism room. In the far corner of the room there stood a little wooden door. Ryan watched with fascination as the priest removed a small key from his coat and unlocked it, disappearing inside.

After a minute or so, Father Derek came back out and swept his arm as if to welcome them. He would let them do whatever they wanted to do, but he was not about to enter with them. He had made it clear how much he hated the place. Ryan and Shane thanked him as he left for the outside doors. They swung shut behind him, and the two of them were alone.

Ryan poked his head around the corner of the inconspicuous door, dread pooling in to the pit of his stomach as he shone his light down the long stone hallway, to the single wooden door adorned with a cross and a sliding metal lock on the outside. He shuddered. After their conversation on Demons VS Holy Water, he’d gotten Father Derek to bless the water in his water bottle- and then left it on the car seat, like an idiot.

“Jesus…” He mumbled, then shot a look over his shoulder “Hey Shane, why don’t you go first?”

“Or, how about we go together and you stop being a wimp?”

“Shut up,” Ryan muttered, “Why’d I have to forget the fucking holy water.”

After a few minutes of psyching himself up, Ryan entered, Shane close behind him. The temperature dropped like a stone in the hallway. Of course there were no windows. 

Ryan stared up at him, “How the fuck are you not scared right now?”

“Well, I’m scared I might step on a nail and get an infection. This place is old as hell.”

Ryan scoffed and shook his head, “Y’know, you don’t always have to put on this, like...front around me. You can admit when something creeps you out.”

“It’s not for _ you. _ It’s all for the cameras, baby,” he grinned, turning around and winking at Ryan’s chest camera.

Ryan huffed a laugh, then said, “Really though. You can at least say when you’re a bit freaked out. It’d make me feel better. It might even make you less annoying.”

“Has it occured to you, after all this time, that maybe I really  _ am _ just un-freak-outable?”

“Everyone’s freak-outable, Shane.”

“Yeah well, I’m not.”

Ryan rolled his eyes.

 

-

 

There were no working lights in the exorcism room, much to Ryan’s dismay.

“Hey, how’d you know all that stuff?” Ryan asked quietly in an effort to break the silence,  “About demons, I mean? I thought you didn’t believe in them.”

Shane shrugged, “Doesn’t mean I can’t look them up.”

Ryan frowned, “Wait… did you learn about occult shit, just for me?”

“No, I just thought I’d brush up on my knowledge this season so I can insult you more accurately.”

A huge grin cracked across Ryan’s face with a realization, “Oh my god, you learned that stuff so I’d be impressed, didn’t you? You wanted to impress me!”

“No. Shut the hell up.”

“Oh my god, you did!”

“I hope this is the season the demons finally snap and eat your heart.”

“I thought there was no such thing, dumbass.”

Shane sighed.

 

-

 

Shane stood outside in the main hall as Ryan fumbled in the dark with the spirit box. He flinched as the loud static sound suddenly filled the room. He set the little box on the shelf, took a deep breath and sat down on the little wooden chair at the other side of the room. He flicked off his flashlight.

“I’m gonna go quiet now,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of the static, “If you wanna say anything, now’s the time to speak up.”

Silence stretched for a long time.

_ “..Shh…”  _

Ryan glanced down at the camera, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure if that was a spirit or a blip. He waited a bit longer, feeling his fingers curl around the folds of his jeans and bite the skin beneath.

_ “Shh… here.” _

Ryan’s heart quickened, “Here?”

_ “It’s here...here!” _

“What the fuck-- what’s here? My name’s Ryan. Can you say Ryan back to--?”

_ “Here…”  _ a long, deep silence, save for the static of the spirit box and the beating of Ryan’s own heart,  _ “Black.” _

“It’s black?”

The silence dragged on for a while. “Who are you?” Ryan prodded. No response. “I’m Ryan. My friend Shane is--”

“ _ Shh...close! It’s close.” _

“W-what’s clo-?”

_ “Black thing bad thing-- help -- geT HELP GET HELP.” _

Ryan swallowed, goosebumps shuddering across his skin in the wake of the blood draining from his face. He wiped the sweaty palms of his hands on his dirtied jeans. He waited for as long as he could, trying desperately to prod the spirits in to answering more questions, but no response came. A small part of him felt relieved. He waited for what seemed like an hour (but it was probably only fifteen minutes) before he called it quits.

“Alright, I’m done…” Ryan muttered to himself as he stood up from the rickety chair. He walked across the room to the windowsill and picked up the small device. He twisted it in his hands, feeling around for the off switch in the darkness.

_ “MONSTER!” _

Ryan recoiled in horror and the box went spinning and he couldn’t catch it in time to stop its fall. It cracked open on the concrete floor and silence fell like a brick wall all around him. That’s when Shane rounded the corner, flashlight in hand.

“Time’s up, Ry.”

Ryan knelt down to scoop up the pieces, a sigh hissing through his clenched teeth, “Mother fucker…”

“Oh shit, did you break the spirit box?” Shane said, stepping in to the room to peer over Ryan’s shoulder, “What happened?”

“It scared the fuck out of me and I dropped it, thats what happened.”

“Well, I did kinda hate that thing,” Shane said, amused. His smile faded when Ryan stood up and turned to look at him, “You okay, dude?”

_ Black thing. Bad thing. Monster.  _ Ryan looked away.

“Y-yeah, I’m good, just that my nerves are fucking shot,” He fumbled and stuffed the broken pieces into his coat pocket. He glanced at Shane, but found he couldn’t look him in the eyes. He walked right past him. 

“Fuck this place, let’s get outta here.”

 

-

 

Ryan stayed behind to thank the Father Derek for allowing them to visit. Again he wondered how such a lovely old man could have anything to do with such a creepy old building, but now with the tension draining away to leave only exhaustion, he was just glad to leave. They had some extra filming to do in the morning, and with their hotel more than an hours drive away he wanted to get on the road.

Shane walked down the steps and across the lot to their rental car as Ryan stayed and answered the Father Derek’s questions. When was the episode going to be out, did they see any ghosts, and so on. Ryan recounted their spirit box encounter, but didn’t go into much detail about what the voices said; he still felt rattled. He said his final goodbyes and turned to walk down the steps, as Father Derek locked up. The sky was dark, deepening from post-sunset purple to deep, starry black.

A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. 

A black shape stood still just beyond the light from the lampost. Ryan stopped dead on the last step. For a second he thought it might be a trick of his eye, but no, the shape was solid and dark and stood like a wall of wiry fur. Two eyes glimmered in the darkness, burning.

Ryan’s heart pounded as he reached for the flashlight on his hip, but in the second it took him to break eye contact and illuminate the gnarled trunk of the hawthorn tree, the creature had vanished without so much as a whisper. He was alone. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his throat scratched like sandpaper in the frigid night’s air.

_ Black thing. Bad thing. _

He sucked in a breath of cold air, realizing all at once that he’d stopped breathing, and finally flicked off the flashlight. No sooner had Ryan stepped down on to the gravel, he heard Shane cry out in shock and looked across the road just in time to see him collapsed. 

“Shane!” 

Ryan sprinted over, dropping his pack as he watched Shane roll over on to his side, clutching his stomach with both hands. Ryan dropped to his knees beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. Shane’s eyes were screwed shut, tears touching the corner of his eyes.

“Shane, Jesus Christ- ! What happened?!”

Shane shook his head as he pushed himself to his knees, moving one hand from his stomach to cover his mouth. His face glistened with the sheen of sweat, his skin visibly paler even in the low light of the street. Whatever it was he was trying to keep down, it didn’t stay for long and he vomited all over the ground.

Ryan reached behind him in to the car, looking for a bottle of water and finding a familiar one- the holy water, sitting on the seat with the cap loose. Ryan frowned, taking it in his hand and turning it over. It was half empty, did Shane drink it? He offered it to him after the next bout of vomiting. 

“Dude, c’mon, you need water-” Ryan shoved the water bottle in front of Shane’s face, the thought of the black dog beyond the lamp post forgotten.

Shane looked at it, his face wet with tears, and just for a second Ryan thought his eyes looked all too dark and his heart leaped in to his throat.

“ _ No _ !”

Shane struck the bottle form Ryan’s hands and the cap flew off as it hit the ground and rolled. The water seeped out in to the parched earth. When Ryan finally looked back in shock, his mouth open to demand what the hell  _ that  _ was for, but what he saw in Shane’s face stopped him dead. 

His eyes, just for a second, had gone from just dark to black and deep as pools of ink. He blinked once, and just like nothing happened, the warm brown eyes were back, and glimmering with tears. Shane buried his face in his long-fingered hands.

“I’m sorry--” Shane mumbled, his voice ragged, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m fine just-- don’t look at me. I need a second, just go away. Please.” 

Ryan paused, a part of him wanting to protest, but with the unsettling feeling taking root in the pit of his stomach, he finally found himself standing up and backing off. It must have been a trick of the light. He’d imagined it.With every breath he felt fear rattling,spreading inside his chest. He looked behind him, down at the empty bottle, and the dark pool of earth spreading out around it.

 

-

 

The soft mattress and not-quite-clean smell of his hotel bed was a strange but welcome comfort. 

The drive back to the hotel had been a long one. Shane managed to keep it together in the car, thank God, but it didn’t stop Ryan from fretting and waiting in his hotel room as he threw up what was left in the bathroom.

“Ry,” came Shane’s haggard voice from the bathroom, “I appreciate your mother-henning, I do, but you should go to bed.”

_ Yeah, right.  _ Ryan thought.  _ Like I’ll ever fucking sleep again. _

“Shane…” Ryan sat on the edge of the bed facing the ajar bathroom door, his hands linked together and folded in his lap. He chewed his lip as he thought of how to phrase what he couldn’t even explain to himself. “I need to… can I ask you something?”

After a second of coughing, making sure he wouldn’t vomit again, it seemed like Shane felt safe enough to shift over to the door and lean against the frame. Ryan avoided his gaze for a moment, as if staring for too long would cause the eyes to...change.

“What is it, Ry?” Shane prodded.

“I saw something... weird.” Shane frowned as Ryan racked his brain to find the right words, “When you threw up. Before you knocked the water away. Your face, it was… different.”

Shane’s composure fell for a split second, then he laughed, “Are you joking? I thought you were gonna say something serious. Now you’re saying you saw my face in weird lighting and it freaked you out? I can’t be good looking at every angle, Ry, that’s just straight-up unreasonable.”

Ryan glared, “I’m not joking. Why’d you throw up, Shane?”

“I don’t know? Food poisoning?” Shane shrugged defensively, “Why does it matter?”

“Did you drink the water I left on the seat?”

Shane fell silent for a minute, the last traces of amusement fading from his face. He was getting angry now, and defensive. Ryan had struck a nerve and now it was plain to see he was guarding something.

“You did, didn’t you?” Ryan pressed.

Shane’s jaw clenched, “Ryan, stop asking such stupid questions.”

“I’m not asking stupid questions.”

“Yes you are. You’re letting your imagination run away with you like you always do and now you’re connecting dots that aren’t there.”

Ryan balled his fists and shot to his feet, “I just want to know what the fuck I saw!”

“Nothing. That’s what you fucking saw.”

“I’d know if it was a trick of the light. Your eyes went  _ black. _ Shane, I’m just worried, okay? What if something in the church… I don’t know…”

“What?” Shane scoffed, “Possessed me?”

Ryan shrugged, folding his arms. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you drink the holy water or not?”

Shane rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Yes, Ryan, I drank the holy water because you left it on the car seat in your normal water bottle and I didn't know what it was. So  _ what _ ?”

“And then you puked.”

“Yeah. And then I puked. It’s probably just the shitty food in this place. It’s called a  _ coincidence _ .”

Ryan buried his face in his hands and sat back down on the bed, “You’re fucking  _ impossible. _ ”

“ _ I’m _ impossible? What is it with you today, Ry? You’ve been acting weird ever since you broke the spirit box. Did it say something to you? Is that why you’re more freaked out than usual?”

Ryan said nothing. The spirit box was nothing compared to the thought of the hound standing, staring right at him.

“Or rather you saw something. Is that it?”

“Not like you’d believe me…” Ryan muttered.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter what I heard or saw in the church. _ You  _ freaked me out the most. I was looking right at you, then you looked up at me and your face was right there, and your eyes were fucking black. Don’t try and tell me it was weird lighting, or I was imagining it, or some other bullshit. I know you know what I’m talking about. Tell me the truth, Shane. Please.”

Shane looked away, shaking his head, and said nothing. Ryan put his face in his hands and groaned. He’d been shaking so much his body ached and he was tired as hell and all he wanted was a goddamn answer. He stood up from the bed and found himself pacing until he finally crossed the room and leaned against the windowsill, staring out into the parking lot and the empty desert road. He noticed the pitch blackness of the sky and wondered how long they’d been talking.

Behind him he heard a shift of clothing and knew Shane was trying to stand, groaning with the effort it took him. “Ryan.”

Ryan looked, taken aback by the soft tone of voice. When he saw Shane approach, he turned around, leaning back against the windowsill with both hands to steady himself.

“Remember -- Montana, when we had that card game? You were wasted and on a losing streak, and you ran out of cash.”

Ryan frowned, caught off guard. Why was he bringing this up now? “Yeah. What about it?”

“You said, if I won, you owed me a favor. No questions asked, no strings attached, shut up and do what I say,  _ favor.  _ This is me, calling it in”

Ryan’s jaw dropped and he scoffed astonishment, “Are you serious?”

“That was the deal.”

Shane’s anger wasn’t gone, that was clear. But there was something else mixed in now, too. He was sincerely _ worried _ . His face was still pale from the illness, but a pink flush had returned to his cheeks. Ryan froze up when Shane planted both hands firmly on his shoulders, his own dropping from the window sill to his sides.

“Ryan, I want you, as my best friend, to never ever bring this up again. For me, Ryan. Please.”

The held each other’s stare for a while. In all this he’d confirmed he _ did  _ have something to hide, but what it was exactly, Ryan didn’t know. He had so many things he wanted to ask, but now he wished he never brought it up in the first place. Ryan was the first to break. He shoved past him and went for the door, heat rushing to his face. “Fine! Sorry for worrying about you.”

For a second he thought Shane might argue, but he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted to be left alone. Ryan didn’t care. He was sick of arguing, sick of Hawthorn Road and Okla- _ fucking _ -homa. He went across the hall to his own room and crashed face first into the pillows, the exhaustion hitting him like a steamroller. 

 

-

 

When he eventually fell asleep he dreamed of little. The sound of the engine’s hum, the murmurs in the spirit box, distorted images of Shane on his knees as he vomited like he’d been poisoned. And finally Shane’s eyes, wet and dark, dripping like ink down his face and pooling into the open palms of his hands.

After the next bout of nothingness he saw the black dog, lying beneath the shade of the hawthorn tree. It growled, its lips pulling back cross its long pointed muzzle to reveal its horrid teeth. Its eyes shifted slightly, fixated on something behind Ryan that he couldn’t turn to look at, but could feel like a hot breath on the back of his neck. The dog barked, a hollow and rattling sound that filled every corner of the dream. Ryan jerked awake, a loud gasp escaping him. 

His relief didn’t last for long. Something in the room seemed off. Ryan vaguely felt warm, then hot, then suffocated.  _ Fuck, fuck, still dreaming. _ He tried again to pull himself up and out, but it was as if something was holding him down in the dreamscape. His struggle to open his eyes, his  _ real  _ eyes, felt futile compared to the pressure on his chest. Something was pressing down on his lungs. It took all his effort just to move his eyes.

The wolfhound stood above him, its huge, shaggy paws on his chest. It was leaning in mere inches from his face, its eyes burning like a candle flame. Too real to be a dream- too fucking real and he couldn’t look away and then suddenly it was all over.

Ryan shot up in to a sitting position. He gripped the covers of his bed, his _ real  _ bed, in his real hotel room, and let out a huge sigh of relief. The morning sun shone through the curtains and outside the sky was the loveliest shade of blue he’d ever seen. 

As he fought to catch his breath he put his hand on his bare chest, feeling the hammering of his heart against his ribcage. He leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes, “ _ Jesus fucking Christ _ .”

 

-

 

With Shane sleeping in the passenger seat, Ryan had too much time to think. Today was the last day of filming, which meant he only had to go back to the Hawthorn road church one more time before he could turn his back on the place forever.

When Shane had finally woken up in the morning, a lot of the tension from their fight had died down. They’d both had the time to cool off and by the time they’d had breakfast and gotten in to the car to return to Hawthorn, they were smiling and laughing again, like last night had never happened. Shane called in the favour not to talk about it, so for now, Ryan wouldn’t. He wanted to forget what he’d seen, because even as he talked to Shane his mind wouldn’t stop racing, each question tripping over the other as new ones popped up in their place.

Did Shane have something to do with the black dog? Why was the thing following him around? Where had it come from? And one of the biggest questions that overpowered all the others-  _ what if _ he really had imagined Shane’s black eyes, and his weird dreams and flickers in the corner of his eye really were simply a result of an overactive imagination? Ryan chewed his lip.

Shane shifted in the passenger seat and groaned when he opened his eyes to the low sun, screwing them shut again he pushed his dark sunglasses back up and pulled his hood down. Ryan looked away, a flush of embarrassment colouring his face. He stared at the road ahead and hastily shoved his thoughts away as if he were afraid Shane would see them. Ryan imagined him laughing in his face. _ You gotta stop reading conspiracy shit, Ry. It’s warping your brain. _

Shane pushed himself up in his seat and stretched with a huge yawn, and Ryan suddenly felt ridiculous. Had he really started to freak himself out like that? 

Not to mention that if he was going to get possessed by the devil, or whatever was in Hawthorn, it would’ve happened ages ago considering how much he seems to relish in antagonizing demons and scaring the hell out of Ryan. His white knuckle grip on the wheel loosened. He scoffed quietly to himself with a light shake of his head.

“What’re you smirking at?” Shane mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Nothing. Just myself,” Ryan replied, “How you feeling?”

Shane kneaded his temples with his long-fingers hands and sighed, “Oh, like I just had the worst hangover of my life. Other than that, way better.”

“Good. If you went and caught the flu before the last day of filming, I’d be really pissed.”

Seemingly too tired to come up with a comeback, Shane just let himself laugh.

 

-

 

“Ryan, I’m being totally serious when I’m saying this so I want you to listen. I think this is,  _ literally, _ the worst place in the whole goddamn world."   
Ryan burst into laughter. Shane had slouched so far down in the passenger seat his stupidly long legs had to fold up more than usual. 

“Oh come on, Shane. We’ve _ definitely _ been to worse places.”

Shane groaned and made a show of pulling his hood down lower, pressing both hands in to his face.

“Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to drive this morning,” Ryan said, “Maybe if hadn’t decided to vomit your guts up like something out of _ The Exorcist _ again we’d be there by now.”

“People shouldn’t drive, Ryan,” Shane mumbled, “It’s unnatural.”

“So’s watching you wolf down like three plates of pancakes after you were just sick. Seriously, how the fuck do you eat so much when you’re so skinny?”

“I dunno, I’ve got hollow legs. Dude I think I threw up everything I’ve ever eaten. I was hungry. And anyway, I thought the drive to Hawthorn would be a little bit more scenic than, like... _ this.” _

“What are you talking about? How could you get sick of this view?” Ryan gestured out the window to the horizon filled with fields and fields of  flat fuck-all. There wasn’t even a single cloud in the sky to break the monotony.

“Oh, probably because it’s the same view we’ve been driving past for the last thirty fucking years.”   
“We’ve been driving for like forty five minutes and you were asleep for most of it. And stop shaking your leg like that or I’m gonna break it.”

Shane stopped tapping his foot against the floor. Silence fell for a while and there was only the soft hum of the engine. “I wish you hadn’t seen it.” Shane said quietly.

“Seen what?”

“Me, last night,” Shane said, “When I was sick.”

Ryan looked away from the road ahead. Shane had removed his sunglasses, and was staring at him with a sincerity that made his heart leap. Ryan shrugged and looked away when he felt the blood rush to his face.

“You’re my best friend,” he said finally, “If you’re sick, I’m gonna help you..”

“Sorry I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, well, I was being crazy,” Ryan muttered.

“I know I talk a lot of shit, but I really do hate it when you get super worried. You don’t need to worry about me, Ry,” he gave him a smile, “The worst is over.”

In his mind’s eye Ryan saw the black dog, eyes black as pitch and the bottle of holy water bleeding in to the dry desert earth, and as much as he wanted to believe it he knew it wasn’t true.


	2. Friends in Low Places

**FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES**

 

Their final trip to Hawthorn Road turned out to be pretty uneventful. They got the last of the location shots they needed for the future episode, and no matter how long Ryan lingered in the graveyard, the black dog was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. For it to jump out from the gravestones and reveal itself to him in broad daylight?

Some part of him felt cheated, but more of him felt relieved. If he never had to see this place or that dog again, it would be too soon. Father Derek arrived to check on them just before they finished filming, and wished them a safe journey as they packed their gear in to the rental car.

As Ryan knelt by the church steps to retrieve a bottle of water out of his bag, he thanked Father Derek one final time. The priest smiled and nodded, then reached into his coat pocket.

“If you should need anything more, Ryan, just give me a call.”

He pulled out a little white card and held it out to him. Ryan stood up and turned the little card over in his hand, curious. On the back was Father Derek’s full name in an ornate font with his phone number underneath it, all in a lovely red ink.

Ryan slipped it in to his pocket and slung his bag over his shoulder. Saying their goodbyes, Ryan sighed in relief as he walked down the hill and back to the car- he’d never been more excited to drive to an airport in his life.

“One more thing, Ryan.” The priest called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Look after yourself.” He told him, and smiled warmly, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Safe travels.”

 

**_One Year Ago_ **

**_Montana_ **

 

Shane burst into laughter as Ryan slammed his cards down on the table.

“God _fucking_ damn it,” Ryan reached inside of his jacket pocket, though the alcohol made him struggle to find it, “You’re cheating, or something! How the fuck are you so good at this game?”

“I’m not that good, you’re just awful. Cough it up,” Shane reached across the table and slid Ryan’s cards in to his hands, gathering them together and making to shuffle the deck again. They’d been playing this game all night. Ryan had wanted to try the dart board at first, but in his state Shane didn’t trust him not to inadvertently skewer himself in the face, so they settled for cards.

Ryan grumbled and handed over the last five dollars he had. He made a show of downing the last of his beer, and slammed the glass on the table. He wiped away the foam the dribbled down his chin.

“One more game,” He demanded as Shane set the deck on the table and stuffed the money into his jacket pocket.

“You said that was the last of your money,” Shane said, amused, “What could you possibly bet?”

“I dunno,” Ryan leaned in to his hands and sighed, “I’ll think of somethin’. Just gimme a sec.”

“Better hurry,” Shane said, waving his earnings casually in the air, “I want another round.”

Ryan glared, “You _are_ cheating, aren’t you? Let me shuffle the cards this time.”

“You can barely hold your drink still! And I never cheat, you’re just super easy to read.”

Ryan looked away, seemingly embarrassed, “So?”

“It’s not a _bad_ thing, Ry. I like that about you.”

Ryan fiddled with the pint glass, turning it around as he watched the foam drip down and gather at the bottom. “I want another one.”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“Shush. Buy us another round while I think of a way to get my money back.”

 

\--

 

After what Shane was going to make _sure_ was his last pint of beer, Ryan’s head shot up with a gasp so loud and sudden it made him jump, “I’ve got it!”

“Jeez-- Got _what_?”

“What we’re gonna bet,” Ryan leaned in, eyes wide and delighted as if he was letting Shane in on a brilliant secret, “If I win, I get back everything we bet. If you win, I owe you a favour.”

Shane smiled, bemused, “A favour?”

“No questions asked,” Ryan confirmed, slamming his hand on the table, “You can call it in tomorrow, or next week, or ten years from now. Point is, I _have_ to do it.”

“Sounds kinda risky,” Shane told him, lifting his glass to his lips, “What If I need help robbing a bank? Or if I kill someone?”

“Well, like I said, that’s only if you _win._ ” Ryan told him, _“_ So, what d’you think? One more game?”

Shane set the glass down and licked his lips. He leaned back in his chair and thought for a while, finger tapping his chin. “Hmm…”

“Come _on,_ dude. _Please?_ ” Ryan whined, “I want my thirty dollars back!”

Shane laughed. He couldn’t help it. If Ryan had any idea just who he was making a deal with...

“Deal?” Ryan prodded, holding out his hand which wobbled with the alcohol. Shane grinned. They shook hands.

“Deal.”

 

\--

 

When they returned to his apartment, Shane watched in amusement as Ryan stumbled in to the living room, threw his jacket on the floor, and flopped heavily on the sofa. Shane laughed.

“How graceful.” he said, “you sure you don’t wanna sleep in your _actual_ bed?”

Apparently not, because Ryan already looked half asleep.

“Shane.” he mumbled suddenly, his voice half muffled by the cushions.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“When we get to the location tomorrow…” he fumbled for a moment, then said, “you’re gonna... you’ve got my back, right?”

“No demons are gonna hurt you, Ry. I promise.”

“How d’you know?”

“I’m around,” Shane told him, “They wouldn’t dare.”

Ryan’s reply sank in to the pillows, and he slept deeper than the dead.

 

**_Present Day_ **

 

When they landed back in LA, they decided to share a cab. Shane lived farther away from the airport than Ryan did, and by the time they had grabbed their suitcases and left the sky was already dark. Ryan offered for him to sleep at his place for the night.

He couldn’t deal with being alone right now. With Hawthorn so far behind them, he felt a bit more clear headed. But still, it was a relief when Shane accepted the offer.

They talked about the location for next week- a supposedly haunted mansion not too far from here. Ryan hoped it would be less freaky than Hawthorn road.

“You never know,” Shane said, “It could be even worse.”

“Don’t say that, dude, holy shit.”

Shane laughed.

 

-

 

The night Shane stayed, Ryan awoke in the middle of the night, with the worst feeling that there was something outside. He sat up as quietly as possible, glancing over at Shane sleeping soundly in the armchair.

Ryan looked out the window, rolled his sleeve over his palm and wiped the condensation away to look out in to the street.

The wolfhound was there, in the middle of the road. Standing. Staring. Ryan heard the wind blowing, saw fallen leaves tumbling down the street and around its paws, and yet the beasts fur didn’t so much as move.

He was half sure he was asleep-- for his own sanity, he’d keep telling himself that.

“Why are you following me?” Ryan whispered, “What the hell do you want?”

The dog just stood there, unmoving, and soon Ryan fell back to sleep and dreamed of nothing.

 

**_One week later_ **

 

_Ryan’s heart leapt into his throat- he watched frozen still as the black dog bulleted past the black fence and down the hill towards the doors of the church, howling and barking._

_By the time he could move again the dog had reached the church doors, scratching furiously with its shaggy paws to pry them open. Ryan tried to yell, his legs moving before he knew he was running. But by the time he even made it past the black metal gates the dog had found its way inside the church._

_He had been so fucking stupid- they should never have come back here. He should have warned Shane about his dream and the dog even though he knew he wouldn’t have believed him. He should have made up some excuse and never come back here. He heard Shane’s shocked cry._

_He jumped up the steps, swinging the door open with all his strength. Wet paw prints cleanly marked the layer of dust on the wooden floor. “Shane?!”_

_The black dog stood in the centre of the aisle, staring Shane down as he backed away, terrified. Shane had grabbed a long metal candlestick and swung it in the dog’s face, but it barely flinched. Ryan watched in horror as the metal connected with the dog’s muzzle with a deafening crack, and still it didn’t slow down. It was trying to get Shane to back up, purposefully placing one paw in front of the other, its horrid baying flooding the church with thunder, rattling around in his head louder and louder--_

He woke up, coated in a cold sweat, his heart hammering against his chest. He sat up, his breathing rattled and hollow. He reached for his phone.

_-_

 

 _“Ryan?”_ came Shane’s voice through the receiver,  rough and groggy with sleep.

“Shane…” Ryan murmured. He had no idea what to say. He was just relieved to hear his voice.

_“Is something wrong?”_

He didn’t know what to say, so he just started talking, “I just… Since Hawthorn, I’ve been having weird dreams… I can’t fucking sleep. I’m worried they won’t go away.”

 _“Ryan,”_ Shane murmured, voice soft, _“they’re only dreams. They can’t hurt you.”_

“But what if it’s something else? What if it’s something’s fucking with me on purpose? What if--”

 _“Ryan.”_ he said, quiet, soothing, _“There is no such thing as demons. I promise. These are just bad dreams.”_

“Right...” Ryan repeated quietly, and heaved a heavy sigh, “right, there’s no such thing.”

After briefly talking about the location for tomorrow, and what time Shane would arrive in the morning, he hung up and dropped his head in to his hands with a groan. He set his phone on his bedside table. No chance in _hell_ was he going to sleep now. He got up from bed and walked barefoot downstairs, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. He noticed the laptop sitting closed on his desk.

He sat down at his desk after taking a huge gulp of water to sooth his parched throat. He hesitated as his hand fell on the white laptop’s surface. He was worried about the things he might find out. But what else was he supposed to _do_ at this point?

Ryan opened his laptop, his fingers hovering hesitantly over the keyboard as he tried to think of how to phrase his search. He knew black dogs came up in myth and folklore, but he knew nothing solid about it.

_Black dog_

_Black dog myth_

This brought up some articles about hellhounds- huge, red-eyed, demonic beasts. His dog was _undoubtedly_ monstrous, but this description rubbed him the wrong way. Probably not what he was looking for. He clicked out of the page and went back to the search bar.

_Black dogs in folklore_

_Irish wolfhounds myth_

_Black dogs ghosts_

The web searches eventually brought him to another promising site. He skimmed the article until his eyes caught the word “church” and he hastily scrolled back up. A blue hyperlink entitled “ _the church grim”._  He clicked the text.

_Church grim_

Each article he read described the church grim as a guardian of the dead. The spectral dog haunts specific churches, guarding the souls of the dead from those who would defile their graves, or, to Ryan’s disquiet, protect them from evil spirits. This _had_ to be it.

When had Ryan first seen the black dog? He had been speaking to Father Derek, and he had walked down the steps of the church’s entrance, and spotted it standing beyond the light of the lampost. It was dark by the time they left, but not so dark that Ryan didn’t know what he saw. He only laid eyes on the thing for a few seconds. And then Shane, and the holy water…

Ryan froze up, a realization striking him like a slap in the face. It protects the churchyard from evil spirits. What if he had been thinking about this the wrong way? Maybe the sightings, and his dreams weren’t what he thought. Maybe the church grim wasn’t trying to harm him. What if it had been trying to warn him?

About _Shane?_

_Black thing. Bad thing. Monster._

Ryan shut the laptop.

 

\---

 

For hours he sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hands and in between his legs, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

He needed to do something. Anything. But he watched the sky get brighter outside, overcast with the blue grey of the early morning, and didn’t move from his bed. His nerves felt taut and frayed. He squeezed the phone between his legs. The voice he heard in his head was his own, but it’s cadence easily belonged to Shane. _Stop being such a wimp._

He sighed loudly with resignation. _Fuck it._

He reached into his jacket (he had thrown it on his bed as soon as he got home and hadn’t bothered to hang it up) and pulled out the little white card, now bent at the edges. He turned it over in his fingers and scanned over the little red letters, squinting in the low light.

With a shaking hand he dialed the number, stared at it on the screen for a good five minutes before finally taking a breath and hitting _call._

It rang once, twice, a third time, and just when he had enough time to consider what a bad idea this was, Father Derek picked up the phone.

_“Hello?”_

“Hi, Father. It’s me, Ryan Bergara?”

 _“Oh, Ryan!”_ he said cheerfully, _“It’s good to hear from you! How was your trip home?”_

“Oh, it was fine.-- So, listen… Remember when you said, I could call you if I needed anything? Is this a good time?”

_“Indeed I do. What can I do for you?”_

“Well, uh, I have a question.”

_“Oh?”_

“It’s silly, and probably nothing, but, well...how can...that is, how can you tell if someone’s been possessed?”

Ryan bit in to his lip as the line went quiet.

 _“Interesting question…”_ the priest said slowly, _“I assume you ask because you suspect something has followed you home.”_

“Like I said,” Ryan said quickly, glancing out his bedroom window, “It’s probably nothing.”

_“Is it to do with that tall friend of yours?”_

“I…yeah, it is,” he sighed and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, “What the hell do I do, Father?”

_“Tell me everything, son.”_

And so he did. He almost hadn’t realized what a burden he had been carrying until he let it all out. He told the priest all about the voices warning him in the spirit box, and the church grim, and the nightmares.

He still tried to keep things vague. He almost mentioned Shane’s eyes, but his words stuck in his throat and he quickly changed the topic. He wouldn’t potentially get Shane in trouble. Instead he rephrased it, and said his friend had just been acting strange lately, and he could no longer ignore all the puzzle pieces as they continued to fall in to place.

_“When do you see him next?”_

“Tomorrow morning. He’s coming over.”

_“Take a pen and write this down.”_

 

\---

 

At 10am the same morning, Ryan hovered near the hallway, standing in his kitchen with a cup of tea in his hands. When he heard the loud rapping on his front door he jumped and spilt some on his hands, realizing with a start that his tea had gone cold. How long had he been pacing around like this, waiting for Shane to show up?

He set his cup on the table and hastily wiped his hands on his jeans as he made his way down the hall. He opened the door and smiled.

“Morning. You ready to go?” Shane asked, slipping his phone back in to his pocket, “I’ve been calling you, I thought you might still be asleep.”

“Eh, I didn’t really sleep.” Ryan admitted, “Anyway, the car’s all loaded up. I just gotta grab my stuff,” he swept his arm out, gesturing for Shane to come inside as he turned and walked down the hallway.

Shane closed the front door behind him and followed Ryan in to the living room. Leaning against the door frame, he watched passively as Ryan knelt down by the sofa where his pack lay open. Ryan tried to control his trembling breath.

“You look rough, dude,” Shane said, “Did you get any sleep at _all_ last night?”

“Uh, a little. Not much.”

Ryan glanced over his shoulder. Shane stood opposite the bathroom door in the hallway, which Ryan had purposefully left ajar. _Okay, okay_ \- This was his chance. He reached into his pack.

“Sorry I wasn’t more helpful.” Shane was saying, “I’ll drive- you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Ryan stood. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry too.”

“Sorry for--?”

Ryan turned and raised a wooden crucifix in one hand. In the other by his side was a new bottle of holy water. Shane’s smile dropped like a stone. He stood up straight, taking an automatic step backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ryan pressed forward without a word, though the hand that held the crucifix out at arms length trembled like a leaf. He stepped forward, and Shane leaned back then stumbled over the bathroom threshold and his hand shot out to grab the beam for balance. He glared right at him, eyes darkened and wary.

“ _Ryan--_ ” he growled.

“Get the fuck back,” Ryan spat, as if it would hide the shaking in his voice.

Shane stepped backwards, as he was told, his hands raised in defense. Ryan’s heart pounded as he stepped closer to the salt circle spread out on the bathroom tiles.

He stepped backwards and over the line of the salt circle and Ryan’s heart leaped. Shane sucked in a sharp gasp, stopping dead as if he’d backed into a brick wall. He looked down at his feet, at the circle of salt, finally breaking eye contact with Ryan.

“Did you set this all up just for _me,_ Ry?” he breathed, “I’m flattered.”

“I fucking knew it.” Ryan spat, “I fucking _knew_ what I saw! You _are_ possessed!”

Shane blinked, confused. “Wait, what?” he burst into laughter, “You think I’m _possessed_ ? I thought you put all the pieces together _properly_ for a second there. You got me all excited.”

Ryan shook his head, “The church grim-- it’s been warning me about you. I know that now. Some evil spirit attached itself to you-- to _Shane_. Fucking let him go, or else.”

Shane pinched the bridge of his nose, and gave a resigned sigh, “Alright. You know. This had to happen eventually. You’re always sticking your fucking nose in where it doesn't belong.” he threw his hands up in the air, “You caught me, Ry! Well done!”

Ryan blinked, lowering the crucifix for a brief second. His knees felt like they were about to give out underneath him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanted to tell you myself, eventually. I did.” Shane said, kneading his temples with his hand and obscuring his eyes, “But you just had to drag it out of me.”

“Tell me _what_?”

Shane lowered his hand and looked up. Ryan watched in dawning terror as the familiar brown eyes deepened and darkened and vanished, and the colour drained from Shane’s sallow face. The lights from the bathroom glistened in the reflection of those eyes, wet and black like wells of ink.

“You’re a smart guy, Ryan,” he said, “Put two and two together.”

“Oh my god,” Ryan took a step back, eyes wide. “Get--get the hell out of him-- you’re a fucking parasite!"

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane said smoothly, “It really is just me in here.”

“No. No fucking way. I would’ve _known_ if… he was a…”

Ryan shook his head, eyes wide and mind racing.  He’d had a plan if it was a possession. The salt circle, the holy water, everything he had set up was according to Father Derek. He had a plan. He didn’t- he hadn’t even considered that maybe, all along…

Shane looked around him, though it was hard to tell where exactly his gaze was falling. The hollows of his eyes had turned a sickly grey. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

“You know…” He said, his tone casual, “These salt circles, the crucifixes...I didn’t wanna _say_ it, because I know how sensitive you are, and you like to hide behind them, but the truth is,” Shane raised one foot, and stepped over the salt line, “they’ve never really worked on me.”

Ryan’s body went cold and he dropped the crucifix and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Shane’s fearful look melted away in an instant- he stepped over the circle and strode past the crosses. He kicked the crucifix out of the way as Ryan stumbled back in to the living room, his heart in his throat, and stepped over the threshold and in to the hall.

“I told you not to pry,” Shane was saying, “I called in your favor. Why do you never just do what I say?”

“Montana…?” Ryan swallowed, and his throat grated like sandpaper. He vaguely remembered that night. He remembered reaching across the table and shaking Shane’s hand, and the cold feeling that crawled down his arm. He hadn’t thought anything of it, at the time, but remembering it now made his stomach twist with horror.  “That-- that was with _Shane_. Get the fuck away from me.”

“I _am_ Shane.”

“Bullshit.”

“Making deals with demons, Ry,” Shane said, grinning, “Who knew you had it in you? ”

Ryan had never been a violent person. It just wasn’t in his nature. But he’d never, ever been through something like _this_ . All the worst things he had suspected didn’t compare to the truth, and not only had his best friend known all along, but he had fucking lied straight to his face. And he found it _funny_ . Shane was _laughing_ at him.

In an instant all the horror and guilt that twisted deep in his gut boiled over, his lips drew back over his teeth in a snarl and he reeled back and punched Shane square in the jaw.

Shane staggered, his hands flying to his face. His back hit the wall with a loud thud, and when he finally managed to steady himself and lower his hands, his eyes were back to their normal brown, and it was just regular old Shane leaning against the wall looking offended as hell.

 _“Fuck-- Ow!_ What the _hell,_ Ryan?!”

Ryan blinked, surprised, “That _hurt_ you?”

“Yeah, dick!”

“Good!” Ryan rushed at him and made to hit him again and Shane cursed and grabbed him by the wrists, stopping him before this devolved into a very undignified slap fight.

“Woah, woah! Hey! Hey-- calm down, man!”

“ _You son of a bitch!_ ” Ryan snarled, ripping his arms from Shane’s tight grip, “You- this whole time- You _fucker!_ Do you have any idea what I’ve _been_ through this past week?! You made me think I was going _insane_!”

Shane touched his fingers to his lip, checking for blood, “Yeah, okay, I deserved that one.”

Ryan reached in to his jacket and pulled out a small bottle of holy water, holding it up for Shane to see. “Don’t come any closer. I’m serious.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Shane said, raising his hands again, “Okay.”

“Are you gonna kill me?” Ryan asked.

“No, idiot, I’m not gonna kill you.” Shane muttered irritably with a roll of his eyes. He looked back at the bathroom across the hall, “Say, where’d you get the salt circle idea?”

“Uh…” Ryan swallowed, slightly lowering his arm, “I called Father Derek.”

“Yeah, figures.” Shane scoffed, “Coming from the brilliant mind that brought us the holy water necklace. Did you tell him about me?”

“Didn’t really have to. Considering how much of a dick you are, he kind of put the pieces together for himself.”

Shane paused, and sighed, “I’m sorry you had to find out like...this."

Ryan’s knees felt weak, and he let his hand drop to his side.

“Shane,” he mumbled, shaking his head, “you’re a _demon_.”

The word hung in the air between them. Suddenly, Shane perked up and clasped his hands together with his best innocent smile.

“Hey, you know what you need?” he said cheerily, turning on his heel and stepping o to the hallway, “A hot cup of tea. And a whole lot of sugar.”

 

\---

 

Shane set the cup next to Ryan’s hand. He decided not to sit next to him at the kitchen table- he still found himself flinching when he got too close. Ryan watched as he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, as chilled out as always. Ryan took a small sip of the tea and grimaced- how much sugar had he _put_ in this?

“I’ve gotta say,” Shane said casually, “besides punching me in the face and everything, obviously-- you’re reacting to this _way_ better than I thought you would. I half expected you to cry. Or faint like a scared old lady.”

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan paused, the cup of tea halfway to his lips, “Yeah, you know, so much bullshit has happened to me this week, maybe my shock sensors are just like, broken. That’s what it feels like.”

Ryan sighed and took another sip, then leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. Shane leaned against the counter, watching him warily with those big brown eyes.  _This_ was Shane. _His_ Shane.

“Were you really going to tell me?” Ryan asked him quietly.

“I wanted to,” Shane said, earnest.

“Why would you even care what I think?” he asked.

“Because you’re my _friend,_ Ry,” Shane said, affronted, “I just didn’t want us to... change.”

“Is that why you had that little slip up at Hawthorn?” Ryan asked, “You wanted to get caught?”

“Maybe…” Shane paused, then shrugged, “Yeah, maybe some part of me did.”

“Who are you, really?” Ryan pressed, “What’s your real name?”

“I’m me,” he said, “I’m Shane. Have been for a good long while.”

“Have you always looked like… like a person?”

“Not always.”

“Could you look like someone else, if you wanted to?”

“Why would I change? Am I not perfect the way I am, and all that shit?”

Ryan shrugged, “Just saying, you’re freakishly lanky body is gonna give the game away eventually. I _knew_ no normal human could have such weird proportions.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Ryan picked the next random question that popped up in his racing mind, “What about possession, then? Have you ever possessed a human?”

“Nope. Never _needed_ to, as you can see. Plus, it’d feel _weird._ It’d be like wearing someone else’s socks.”

“Oh my god.”

“You know what?” Shane said, grinning, “I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s kind of hilarious-- you could’ve found me out, like, _way_ sooner if you’d just shot me with your stupid plastic gun back at Goatman’s bridge.”

Ryan shook his head, incredulous, a small wheezing laugh escaping him as he set the cup of tea back on the table. He exhaled and leaned forward again, his head dropping in to his hands and his shoulders sagging. He could barely remember the last good night’s sleep he had, and all at once the exhaustion hit him like a freight train. His adrenaline had all but drained away and he felt like he weighed a ton.

They were quiet for a long time, before Shane finally got the nerve to speak up again.

“Ryan, listen-- dude, are you crying?”

Ryan shook his head, feeling a grin split across his face as he, for some reason, doubled over with laughter.

“Uh…” Shane paused, looking confused and slightly worried, “what’s so funny?”

“I don't know! It's just-- it’s just this whole time, this whole fucking time--” Ryan paused to catch his breath, hugging his ribs, “I’ve been imagining demons as like, gargoyle-ish red skinned monsters or like, little girls with pigtails standing at the ends of hallways. But no, it’s just _you_!”

Shane couldn’t help it- he started laughing too.

 

\---

 

It was the same as it always had been. Ryan behind the wheel, Shane lounging in the passenger seat. The same, and familiar, and yet totally new.

It wouldn’t be the same now. It couldn’t be. It was new. Scary.

_Exciting._

“If you want, I can show you some _real_ haunted places,” Shane said, grinning, “I mean, considering how you reacted when a flashlight turned on by itself, I’d fucking _love_ to see your face at the sight of an _actual_ ghost.”

Ryan laughed ruefully, shaking his head, “Dude, I think if I see an _actual_ ghost after all this shit, my brain’s gonna explode. Let’s just stick with the silly haunted tourist-trap mansion for now.”

Shane scoffed, “Yeah, alright, fair.”

“But, on the off chance there _is_ something supernatural… can you show me?”

“What, _I’m_ not good enough for you?”

“Well, I mean,” Ryan shrugged, pulling a face, “you’re _okay_.”

Shane smirked, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Ryan turned the keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life with a familiar hum.

“Let’s go catch some ghosts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this what it feels like to finish a fic? Feels pretty great! Thank you for all the encouragment!  
> A huge thank you to Zoe who helped me edit this fic along the way, even though she isn't even in this fandom-- True Friend.  
> Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts! I have honestly had so much fun with this story. I hope to be writing about the boys again, someday.
> 
> ( [Find me on tumblr!](https://panthermouth.tumblr.com/) i need more bfu friends)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> The final chapter should be up in a week or two. Writing this is honestly the most fun I've had with a story in a long time, thank you all for being such a lovely and welcoming fanbase!  
> (If you want to chat, [find me on tumblr!](https://panthermouth.tumblr.com/) )
> 
>  
> 
> [Read the small part 2/epilogue to this fic here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857976)


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